there were only ever five prayers that mattered
by the real narnia
Summary: A drabble inside the minds of some of the Oracion Seis. Angsty.


***on the seventh day of Chanukah, the-real-narnia gave to me:**

 **two drabbles for FT***

 **here have some Oracion Angst:**

* * *

 ** _there were only ever five prayers that mattered_**

Erik's ears give him an advantage over everyone else in the group, and they know that, too.

He knows how all of them _feel_ ; _feels_ what all of them _want_ ; _want_ what all of them _dream_.

Which is why he should've realized that they had to get rid of Brain.

He should have known.

He should have seen what he had done to them.

It is not to say that Erik can't _survive_ without thoughts; just that it is a form of torture he doesn't find applicable in any humane fashion.

Of everything that was done to them in prison, the worst part was that he couldn't even hear.

It was like he couldn't fucking _breathe._

 _The problem, of course, was that when he_ couldn't _hear other peoples' souls, he could actually hear_ himself _think_.

And if he wasn't drowning those thoughts out, then he was dying in a different way.

* * *

Sawyer wanted to take it back.

When Brain had promised him his hopes and dreams (to outrun _everyone_ else), he had thought he was finally getting his freedom.

But he wasn't in the way he was thinking.

He was taught a magic that slowed down the area around him; he wasn't moving fast – others were moving _slow_.

He wished that Brain had taught him speed magic. Because _that_ was what he really wanted.

Being faster than anyone else still doesn't mean you're _fast._

If it did, maybe he'd finally be able to outrun his problems.

* * *

Sorano knows she's the devil disguised as an angel.

She pretends to embody Lust, because everything else is taken. Macbeth with his Sloth and his Richard with his Greed. Brain with his Pride, and Zero with his Wrath. Erik and his Gluttony for thoughts.

Envy was _Sawyer's_ thing. In a way, his whole magic revolved around that – stripping people down so he can be better.

So she _does_ embody Lust, in more than just a sexual way; she lusts for power, lusts for keys.

But at heart, she was envious. Maybe even more so than Sawyer.

So can pretend to be Lust, but she was filled with Envy.

She doesn't just _want_ other people's spirits, she wants to be good at _using_ them. She wants to fly, she wants to stop being human (because it _hurt_ ).

She wants to be an angel.

But she is not one.

When Sorano met Lucy Heartfilia, she felt envy take over.

For all of Sorano's dressing and play-acting as an angel, Lucy Heartfilia certainly embodied one more than she did. With the classic golden hair (at least the bitch didn't have blue eyes) and kindness that raided out of her in such strong ways, it made her want to _gag_.

But she was jealous. Jealous of her beauty, of her kindness, of her relationship with her friends, of her relationship with her _spirits_.

And maybe, in another life, she could have had what Heartfilia was supposed to be; but not this one.

This one was far too late, and her hands were stained too deeply in blood.

If Heartfilia was an angel, then Sorano was a Fallen one, and maybe it was right that she fell to _her_ hands.

And an angel that courts with Sin is supposed to fall, and she had always known that.

* * *

Richard is ashamed.

Not just for his guildmates, but for his own actions.

When Brain had rounded them up, Macbeth had ended up becoming the defacto leader, but everyone still _listened_ to Richard. They had listened in the Tower, and they continued to listen because he was older.

So, he should have done something about their situation.

Instead he listened to Brain's traps, and fell for his plans, and spent time scouring the world and committing heinous crimes for _money_ , all to find a brother who was technically still under his nose all along.

Still in the Tower, still under Jellal.

Still _so close_.

But Brain knew he was searching for him, and Brain knows how to use and manipulate his tools. And so Richard fell into the mold, leaving the love for his brother behind and taking everyone else with him on the way.

He only blamed himself for what they had become.

* * *

Macbeth is not a man.

He is a coward.

He's a boy, not a _man_ \- like the type the Strauss buffoon of Fairy Tail always sprouts about. He might be considered an adult, but he's not _one_ of them.

At heart, he is still a twelve-year-old slave, stuck in the Tower of Heaven. He wears a cocky smile and a façade, throwing illusions around to cover up how he is still a scared little boy, trying to find a place to sleep in peace.

He's failed his father, he's failed himself; and he wishes this was all one of the nightmares he cast.

He wants acceptance, he wants freedom, and he gets neither.


End file.
